Future Of Darkness
by flyingwhisk
Summary: What if the battle between Murtagh and Eragon transpired differently in Eldest... And Murtagh does not show mercy? Read to hear my take on events. My 1st fanfic. Please Read and ReviewWarning:Contains Eldest Spoilers
1. Inheritance

**Disclaimer:**I do not own any characters found in this story. This chapter begins at the same time of the corresponding title in Eldest, yet the events are different and any following chapters do not follow the same path as the books

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**Chapter 1: Inheritance**

"Murtagh?" asked Eragon, dazed by the events that had just occurred.

"Yes, Eragon. I have returned. And now it is my duty to take you before Galbatorix himself. He has given me another chance, after I escaped his clutched last time."

"What!" exclaimed Eragon, spring up at Murtagh, with his last remaining strength. Murtagh murmured under his breath and Shadeslayer crumpled at his feet, unable to resist the dark magics that bound him to the ground. Drawing the last remaining energy from the belt and Zar'rocs ruby, he transmitted a message to Saphira. _Help me._

"Now Eragon, you will listen to me, and you will not try pathetic tricks that will not help you. Say for example…contacting your dragon." Murtagh paused and glowered at the helpless boy that lay in front of him. "Saphira. Do not try to get in the way or I will have to immobilise you." Regardless of this, Saphira bellowed out her wings, forcing Murtagh to reach into his overwhelming supply of power and with one word- _Risa _– Saphira was arrested in mid-air.

"Eh" said Eragon, confused by what has happened. "How are you able to halt a dragon in midair?"

"Ah, it is one of the many secrets that have been divulged to me by Galbatorix."

"They should remain a secret, if they hold such power, and what are you going to do with us…Bore us to death?"

"No, the king wants you alive. It is not evil, that he strives for; it is a vision of hope. He wants to rebuild the riders, and for that to occur, your survival is necessary. He _needs _Saphira. She is the only female dragon left in existence. Therefore you are lucky. The bonds that links rider with dragon is immense, and if you die, it can take such a toll upon the other, that their death is inevitable. Either by shock or suicide. The only person ever to survive is Galbatorix, and he gained another dragon.

"Now do you see Eragon? Galbatorix is good, only the Varden are too blind to see it."

"No. Murtagh you cant do this. Why? Let us go." Stammered Eragon, panic rising through him faster than a bullet out of a gun.

"I can do it and I must." Murtagh looked down at his sword and let out a sigh, echoed by thorn, sending out a plume of smoke into the sky."You will be taken before Galbatorix or I will face severe punishment. I swore oaths to the king that I would serve him when thorn hatched. I originally resisted touching the egg, but the prison guard kept placing them in awkward places around my cell. When I touched it, it hatched the next day. I had no choice in the matter. He knows who I truly am. I am Morzan's son, as are you."

"No!" screamed Eragon, "I am not", yet deep down inside him, he could tell that Murtagh was not lying. Memories of his earlier childhood floated to the surface of his mind, ones which until now, had never been seen before. One picture in particular that invaded his consciousness was of his mother looking down on him, his older brother- Murtagh- peeping over her shoulder.

"I will take my sword back now little brother. Soon we shall be friends again" Bending down, Murtagh plucked eragons fingers back and snatched misery from eragon laughing a mirthless laugh that grated against Eragon, like fingers down a blackboard. "You will respect me again Eragon"

"I wont...

"No…

"…No…

"…" Eragon slipped from his consciousness and knew no more.

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Please Read and Review. Any Constructinve criticism is accepted and i will update soon.


	2. Fire and Water

**Fire and Water**

Eragon knew he was not in the same place. There was no smell of smoke from the burning plains, and the rough rock had now been replaced by wet dirt and soft grass. As he opened his eyes he looked around. The sun was just glancing over the horizon to the east - It was dawn. The sky was illuminated with a deep crimson flecked with purple and green. Eragon was in a valley, with a rocky slope facing him on the other side of the trickling stream below. Blinking he sat up and saw Murtagh hunched over a pot, ladling some stew into a wooden bowl. Approaching Eragon he lowered the bowl to him and handed him a spoon. Eragon took a mouthful…

…and spat it out. He dropped the bowl, seeing inside it chunks of beef. Murtagh quickly said _Risa _again in the ancient language and caught the bowl before it had landed. The spoon however fell on the ground, coating itself in the think brown mud. Puzzled Murtagh crouched down beside Eragon, supporting his back, and checking Eragon's temperature by resting his rough hand on his head. Eragon knew that he was just weak and disgusted by the meal prepared for him. However, due to the circumstances, he let Murtagh check, as he could feel a slight bit of power transfer from Murtagh's _Gedwey Ignasia _to himself.

After Murtagh removed his hand he look moved around to face Eragon. "Why aren't you eating?"

"I don't eat meat. I am vegetarian." Eragon replied with a slight tone of bitterness, yet knew that no harm was meant by Murtagh's misunderstanding.

"Oh. Well you will eat meat now, and when we reach Uru'baen you will eat it- either willingly or unwillingly. That is your choice." Murtagh retrieved another spoon from his pack and started to force feed Eragon. At first, the task proved quite difficult, Eragon resisted his every move, even in his weak state. To counter this, Murtagh delved into his magic, rendering Eragon immobile and controlling his movements. Behind them Saphira looked on in despair, blocked by thorns superior training, and her fear of Eragon being harmed.

Eragon's resistance gradually ended, once he realised that his efforts were futile, but each mouthful tasted of death, as his tongue rasped at the ragged animal. He gulped down the remaining liquid, and felt his energy increasing. He got up and stretched and sat by Saphira. _What should we do?_

_Be Patient little one. We must sit and wait. We will try to escape, but it that fails there is no more we can do until our situation changes. _

_How are we going to escape then? It won't be easy._

_Run up the valley now and I will see you at the top._

As Eragon started to run, Saphira blew a long gust of blue flames towards Thorn and reared on her hind legs. Before the flame could hit, Murtagh bellowed "_Ice_" in the ancient language and Saphira long jet of flame, transformed into water, the heat melting what Murtagh had formed. Murtagh then immobilised Saphira and then threw a barrier of compressed air up in front of Eragon, with the words _Thrysta Vindr_.

Laughing Murtagh approached Eragon and led him back down to their camp. "Nice try, Eragon. But it was a bad attempt, and you cannot escape. If you try to escape again, I will be forced to block your contact with Saphira. It will make the remainder of a trip even harder, and you will find yourself in a lot of pain. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," replied Eragon stubbornly.

"Excellent. Now then. We will be leaving in 20 minutes, and we will fly straight to Uru'baen. We are on the last stretch now- you've been out for a day and a half. And just another warning, if you try to escape, I won't be so kind- roll on the torture."

Eragon swallowed and trudged down the hill towards the fresh water. He took three simultaneous gulps and splashed some on his face. It was ice cold, and filtered from where it had trickled through the rocks. He sat down, realising that his treatment would not remain this kind- if this cruelty could even be considered so. He fetched his water skins and dipped them into a small pool, allowing the water to inflate them.

The minutes rolled by, and Murtagh had almost packed up, when he called Eragon up to him. Eragon waited another minute before walking back up to check that Saphira was still travel-worthy. He adjusted his pack and stretched his leather-clad leg over Saphira's back and settled himself in the saddle. In one swift movement, Saphira and Thorn leapt into the air, a rider astride each.

Murtagh tried to contact Eragon, but Eragon threw up barriers to try and prevent this from happening. Eragon just wanted to be alone in peace, not even wanting contact with his dragon, and was happy when Murtagh did not press hum further.

Looking down upon Alagaesia, Eragon saw the scarring beauty of the land. Seeing the whole of the landscape, it showed how insignificant individuals were and how much power he possessed. From this height, peace oozed over the land, writhing it into unlawful shapes. Yet, although he knew of their suffering, nothing one could do seemed to be able to change it- regardless of power.

Eragon let his barriers fall, - Saphira responded.

"_What's up? You're sending me feelings and pictures of distress- and not of the small kind."_

"_Oh, sorry Saphira. It's just that…It's just, we can't change anything. It all comes down to nothing. All of that work… and no good will come of it. It's not just what Galbatorix has done. It's what we have done. We are torturing ourselves."_

"_Eragon. Don't say that. You know that it is because of Galbatorix. And fight- It's not just about winning or losing- by fighting for right you will feel no remorse or guilt. Success is not the only issue. It's morals"_

"_You're right, but I'm going to speak to Murtagh… I want to know his story."_


	3. Murtaghs Story: Of Egg And Oath

**Murtagh's Story – Part 1 – Of Egg and Oath**

The twins spirited Murtagh to Uru'baen and he crumpled onto the floor. He found himself in a large room with rich fairths lining the walls. Tall arched windows divided them. Stained glass created rivers of light that danced across the marble ground. And on a throne before him sat the king, glaring down at him.

The king was old and withered, with glassy eyes and thin curled lips. A fat nose protruding from his face. Wrinkles hung off him like mucus, showing the many ages he had lived through.

He stood up, and kicked. It hit Murtagh square in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He grabbed Murtagh with mighty strength and hoisted him onto his feet.

"Murtagh," he boomed, "How dare you! After everything I did for you, you defied me and left, attacking my men and trying the thwart me. You will learn." He chucked Murtagh back onto the ground and started to probe him with magics. Murtagh felt the pain seer through him, and yelped as they crushed through his walls with superior strength. Images flashed in Galbatorix's head, of the Varden, of his travels and worst of all- of Eragon and Saphira.

As theses images swirled, Galbatorix found a connection, the very one that Murtagh had told Eragon- they were both sons of Morzan. A triumphant thought ceased Galbatorix and he raised Murtagh with magics, by his neck and threw him into prison.

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Murtagh fell in prison, on a hard rock bed, with nothing for comfort excluding a few mouldy blankets. On his bed sat two things- a dish of lumpy leftovers, and a red polished egg. Murtagh cautiously approached and glanced at it. He realised what this meant. He would not submit. He wrapped the blankets around it and laid it in the corner of the room, being careful not to let his skin even brush the glossy shell.

He sat down on the bed and dipped his fingers into the grey puddle of his dinner and started to scoop it down his neck. It tasted bitter, and found it curiously leeching of his strength. After he has finished, he threw the bowl across the room at the glass window, and was worried when it fell short. A distance of 5m was little, yet he was unable to throw it. He felt himself drowsing off so lay down and knew no more.

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He found over the next few weeks that his egg was continuously being moved in the night, being placed in his basin, next to his bed, and once even on the bed beside him. However he keep wrapping it in the blankets and laying it in the corner. On the 24th day after his capture, he found the egg balanced on top of his food bowl. He looked for his blanket as he trudged towards it and was confused when he didn't find it in his room.

"Guard, where's my blanket gone?" Murtagh called through the hole in the door. His face appeared in the window, and he held the grimy cloth in his hand. He bared his crooked teeth in a malicious grin then turned around and walked off. Murtagh, tried to tip the egg out of the bowl. As he did so, he felt his finger brush the side of the egg, as it rolled out. Panic took him and he examined the egg, being careful not to let it touch him. He sat on his bed and ate and waited until nightfall.

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Early the next day, he looked around the room- the egg had not moved. Puzzled by this, he crept towards it in horror. On the edge on the egg was a flaw- it was hatching. An hour passed… and another. The crack grew in length and split. By midday a hole had appeared. As it enlarged, a baby dragon popped his head out of the egg, and scrambled of the eggs chasm. It crawled towards Murtagh. He was in awe. He reached out with his right arm and touched the bony creature on the forehead.

Energy surged through his hand, travelling all the way though him until it dominated his mind. As he pulled away from the dragon he saw the _Gedwey Ignasia_ imprinted into his palm. He was a dragon rider. The guard opened his cell door and Galbatorix marched in, grinning madly. He picked Murtagh up.

"What do you want?" growled Murtagh, defensively hiding thorn behind him.

"You know exactly what I want. Now that the dragon, that I have named thorn has hatched for you, you will swear me your allegiance and then I will train you as my servant."

Only one word managed to cross Murtagh's lips- "never".

The torture began, the king attacked Murtagh with methods both physical and mental, but Murtagh would not give in, he was stronger than that. At every point, Murtagh wished he was dead, although he knew it would be better to die himself that to submit to the will of a madman.

"Is it really what you want? I am not evil- all I want is to rebuild the riders, renewed after the extermination of the old, weaker generation. You can be apart of something much greater and stronger." This was followed by attack after attack.

Hours passed, or maybe days of never ending torture. Galbatorix showed no sign of weakening, nor did his attacks end. "Fine," said Galbatorix, if you won't submit by your pain, how about the pain of that closest to you." Galbatorix started to attack thorn.

The pain was unbearable, he could feel thorns pain, redoubled in himself, yet uncontrollable. Murtagh felt his guilt and anger and after 10 minutes he could bear it no more. "I submit" he said.

Galbatorix told him to say oaths, telling him what to say first in Murtagh's own tongue, followed by its translation. Murtagh sank to his knees and repeated what he had been told. He was an instrument of Galbatorix.


	4. Murtaghs Story: The Ancient Language

Hi- sorry bout the late update. - I no that the other one wasn't great but I didn't have loads of time on it due to my GCSE revisions… and that is so boring. I may change it in the future, so I will alert you if I do. Depends how much free time I get. Also I seems to get writers block really bad, so it's gonna be a while between updates form now on… sorry. It's not that gr8 but hope its okay

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**Murtagh's Story – Part 2 – The Ancient Language**

The training had begun. For thirteen hours of the day, Murtagh would sit and float pebbles, gradually moving on to more difficult tasks. Galbatorix sat on his throne while Murtagh sat in a corner of the great hall, with an assortment of different object surrounding him. Every so often the king would probe his mind, so Murtagh would have to strengthen his defences. According to the king, this was a test of his mental discipline that was necessary to wield the dark powers from the vault of souls.

Thorn was curled up behind him, absorbing the knowledge that Murtagh was learning and channelling their power between each other, feeling Murtagh's delight at the power he was receiving. The dragon was still a little too small to ride, but was quickly growing- it was only a week or so before he would be big enough.

The hours passed, and Murtagh's aptitude with magic has vastly improved providing the little time he had had. The pebble was rocketing around the room at will and Galbatorix knew the time was approaching to go to the vaults. They would take the journey in a week- when thorn was ready, giving Murtagh time to learn his vocabulary.

A translation dictionary, made from old parchment lay in front of Murtagh, giving off a faint musty aroma. He had been reading for almost an hour and the words just washed right through him- not bothering to stop and sink into his ambitious brain. Desperate to learn the power that he craved, he flicked through the book until he compiled a sentence, which he wrote on another piece of paper- _take in the knowledge. _As he said this, the book began to quiver and he felt the power of the ancient language eat into him, as the book spilled his knowledge to them. After a few minutes, Murtagh the spell came to an end, yet Murtagh did not feel weakened as he thought he would. A strange energy resonated in his very fibre of being giving penetrating him. (A bit like Beta radiation, but not with the mutation of cells due to damage… and without the pain)

Murtagh closed his eyes and felt the words of the ancient language circulate and form phrases of power, usable for killing and maiming. He opened his eyes and with one word caused the dictionary to glow an array of different colours from red to aqua marine. He withdrew, and stopped transfixed at what he was able to do. Summoning the king, he told of him of what he had accomplished.

"What!" the king bellowed. "How could you? Do you know how dangerous that can be? The last person who did that killed themselves. They could not handle the power of the ancient language and became a slave to it. They though they could do anything and tried to raise the dead. Probing Murtagh, he found that his barrier had quadrupled in strength and taking all his power, the king breached it and sent ripples of pain through his servant. Uttering in the ancient language Galbatorix said, "_I command you to go to your room with your dragon, and stay there until your dragon is ready for the journey to the vault of souls_

Murtagh walked out.

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The days passed and Murtagh spent most of his time focussing his energies through meditation and focusing himself, allowing the power to flow between dragon and rider, sustaining themselves due to the poor amounts of food they would be given. Thorn was able to leave from time to time to hunt, but only because of the flaw in the kings command… he never said that thorn had to stay. The king after a few days knew the error of his actions, however, could not do anything about it. He had given the command and had to be fulfilled. Ere the power of the ancient language.

Murtagh tried to leave his room several times… but it was the thirteenth day until he was capable of doing it. He went straight to the throne room to see his master. "I am ready, thorn has grown and I am able to take the journey to the vault of souls"

And so it began, servants quickly knocked together rations for their trip into the desert. Murtagh saddled thorn and put on his new clothing, which hung ready for him. Two layers- both were made of leather, one soft and one hard. The inner, soft layer was for comfort, whilst the outer layer was for protection from his dragon's scales.

The preparations seemed to take forever, and Murtagh was impatient to taste more power. As soon as they were ready he leapt onto thorns back and sent a message to the king, through his thoughts.

_Where do I go? What do I do when I get there? I have only read an old legacy that states that I have to go deep into the desert and speak my name before it. But that cannot be it._

_No, it is not. You have every detail correct so far, yet you must go on this adventure of discovery yourself. And then you must speak to _no-one _of what you have found, unless they too have been beyond the Gate of the Damned. _

_I understand, master. I will alert no-one to what occurs, until they too have experienced what lies beyond the gate._

Murtagh set off astride his magnificent blood red companion, and into the night… to his new life of power and dominance.

Ooooh, by the way… this is the last we will hear of Murtagh for the time being, but ive decided ill probably come back to this plot later in the story… don't want to give stuff away, (even though its not that good, I might think of something better)


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